Against Idleness and Mischief

How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!

How skilfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads the wax! And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last.